


Hawaiian Medley

by vanillafluffy



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Attempted Murder, Boy Scouts, Curse Breaking, Dog Jokes, Dogs, Gen, Lizards, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Nature red in tooth and claw, Otters, Shapeshifting, Show Dogs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: An assortment of H5O short fics assembled here for your amusement.





	1. An Inconvenient Fruit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkmoore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmoore/gifts).



This kind of thing wouldn’t have happened in New Jersey, Danny Williams thinks glumly. It isn’t like he’s jealous of Steve--who is he kidding? Watching his boyfriend being lionized for his efforts in saving the seven castaways whose charter had wrecked on a reef, he remembers the good old days when it was Danny’s ability that got commendations. These days, his only superpower is sarcasm.

Back when they’d first started working together, Steve thought Danny was crazy, taking chances no rational person would take. Not surprisingly, after a few weeks of this, he’d taken a bullet. Nothing serious, but Danny had been shocked and McGarrett furious. “Did you think you were bulletproof?” Steve demanded as his partner sat bleeding all over his truck.

“Yes!” Danny blurted. And it was true--back home he’d been shot, stabbed and garrotted, none of which had ever even dented him.

When he’d gotten out of the hospital, they’d done some experiments with Steve’s favorite knife and various indigenous materials to try to figure out what had breached Danny’s protective powers. Finally, almost accidentally, they’d discovered the substance that made him vulnerable. Steve shook his head. “You’re going to have a hard time avoiding that stuff on the islands, partner. Tough break. You’re just going to have to develop some self-preservation skills.”

A line of blood ran from the cut on his arm, which was throbbing. “I can’t believe it,” Danny said, staring at the wound. “ _Pineapple_ is my Kryptonite?!”

…


	2. Why, I Otter

Ancient Hawaiian curses are the worst, Steve McGarrett thinks wearily, pulling out his phone. Thanks to this one--obviously triggered by something in the cave they’d pursued their suspect into--his partner is now an otter. Steve’s had to turn interrogation of the dirt-bag over to Grover and try to find a way to reverse the curse. Not, he would be the first to tell you, that he cares if Danny Williams stays an otter forever, but because Grace would never let him hear the end of it.

While he’s checking with Jerry to see if the pictures of the symbols they’d found carved into the coral rock of the cave offer an explanation and/or cure for Danny’s transformation, Danny is pacing the back of Steve’s leather couch at a gallop, sharp little claws digging into the expensive leather.

“I’m working on it! Don’t destroy my office, will ya?”

“Eeeeheh!” is Danny’s response.

“I’m just saying, the governor isn’t going to understand why I need another couch so soon.” Otter’s paws are remarkably like hands; Steve has no trouble interpreting that gesture. Just then, thank goodness, he has a normal person to deal with--and then that person is Jerry, you know things are bad. “Hey, Jerry--what have you got for me?”

Danny scampers from off the couch, disappearing from sight under Steve’s desk. For a moment, things are suspiciously quiet, then Danny reapears. The otter has climbed up to the rim of Steve’s 30-gallon saltwater aquarium and is regarding the fish thoughtfully. Knowing Danny is more of a ‘Beef: it’s what’s for dinner!’ kind of guy, Steve doesn’t think too much of it, until he dives in with a splash.

“Hey!” Steve bellows, mentally adding carpet-cleaning onto the expense of this little fiasco. “Get out of there! No, not you, Jer--he’s in my freakin’ fish tank!”

More than that, the otter has found Nemo--and is having him for lunch. He’s floating belly-up like a hairy old man in a bathtub, holding Steve’s prized clown fish like a submarine sandwich and chomping away with gusto at the no-longer-wriggling fish.

“That’s digusting,” Steve tells him when he hangs up. “You’re hungry? We’ll pick up some sushi--”

Danny emits a defiant “Eeeeheh!” before submerging again.

Steve takes the precaution of making sure his office door is closed before attempting to get him out of there. If having an otter tear up his office is bad, it’s nothing compared to the havok he could wreak if he was at large in the building. It costs him the blue tang, as Danny resurfaces with it. 

It’s still alive, which gives Steve momentary hope-- “Don’t you dare!” he hollers, but Danny looks him right in the eye and rips into it. Bye-bye, Dory…. “Okay, that’s it!” He crosses the room to the tank.

Danny throws the fish at him, hitting him squarely in the face with it, guts and all. Steve stares at his gore-spattered shirt as the fish bounces off his chest and falls to the carpet with one final flop.

Nimbly, Danny hauls himself out of the aquarium with only a small tsunami in his wake. Steve almost has him as he scampers across his desk leaving soggy papers in his wake, but his foot skids on the wet spot. Onto the office chair, up the back, the otter perches on top, chittering fiercely, probably objecting to Steve’s unstated plan to have him ride in that cat carrier he borrowed from Kono.

‘Slippery when wet’ isn’t just an album from one of Danny’s fellow Jerseyites--it is very, very true of otters, as Steve finds out.

Danny bounces back to the couch, darts along the back and launches himself into the air--aiming for the doorknob. Those tiny prehensile paws grip the knob, which starts to turn, much to Steve’s horror. Eight pounds of otter clinging for all he’s worth…but those eight pounds are mostly in the tail section, and the delicate digits lose their grip. 

Otters, unlike cats, do not land on their feet.

Steve seizes the recalcitrant omnivore by the scruff of its neck. He has a helluva time wrestling it into the car carrier, eventually accomplished by opening the carrier, standing it on end and dropping Danny in butt-first. He closes it and swiftly secures it with a cable tie, two bungee cords and a pair of handcuffs. 

“Not that I don’t trust you,” he pants. “I just don’t trust you.”

“Eeeeheh!” Having heard enough of Danny’s diatribes, Steve can guess what he’s saying.

“Yeah, yeah.” Now to go find the contact who Jerry swears is the best kahuna on the island.

 

…


	3. Aurora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grace brings home a mythical mo'o

Grace Williams loves exploring her adopted home. Hawaii is lush and beautiful. She enjoys learning about it, from its botany to its mythology.

One afternoon, climbing alongside a stream that flows into the sea, she stops to rest and have a snack. To her surprise, a lizard approaches her. It’s one of the larger ones she’s seen, almost a foot long, blue-green and gold like verdigris on old brass. “Hi there,” she coos to it. “Aren’t you pretty? Are you hungry?” She breaks off a bit of her energy bar and places it on a nearby rock.

The lizard’s silver tongue snaps out to lick it, and apparently finds it good. Amused, she gives it several more morsels. 

Unexpectedly, it comes closer…closer…then with a little hop, it runs up her arm and perches on her shoulder. Sitting very still, she can feel it investigating her ear, her hair…. “I really hope,” she says with trepidation, “that you’re not related to any of those poison-spitting dinosaurs from _Jurassic Park_.”

The lizard seems perfectly comfortable on its perch, and she can’t sit there all day. She heads for home, the lizard riding on her shoulder.

It politely declines to stay in the fish tank she prepares for it (left over from the guppies she had when she was eleven), but seems content to bask on her window sill. Grace names her new pet Aurora, after her favorite Disney princess. Occasionally. Aurora will disappear for a day or two, but she always returns to the windowsill sooner or later.

Grace soon discovers where her pet likes to hang out--on the rocks around Steve’s koi pond. The lizard becomes a part of the household in a low-key way. Aurora enjoys her usual spots: in Grace’s room or by the pond--but once in a while, she explores the rest of the house, and no one is surprised when she scampers up the wall and perches on a picture frame when the family is assembled. (Charlie is convinced that the amphibian likes to watch TV.)

Sometimes it’s easy to forget that they live in a dangerous world--until the day some really bad guys come looking for Daddy and Steve. “Get in the closet!” Dad orders them, and she drags Charlie along with her. 

As she passes her room, she remembers her pet, and hollers, “Aurora!”

“No time for that,” Steve growls, pushing them both into the walk-in closet that’s reenforced as a panic room.

It’s quiet in there, with the sound of the ventilating fan the loudest noise. She thinks there’s gunfire and screaming, but that may be her imagination. “I’m scared,” Charlie says in a tiny little voice.

Grace knows she has to be the grown-up here. “Sure, it’s scary,” she agrees, keeping her tone light, “but remember Daddy and Steve have special training to help them deal with bad men like that.”

“Like the Avengers?”

She’s seen Steve in a wetsuit; from there, it’s a short distance to imagining him in spandex. Dad? Not so much. “Maybe.”

The closet door opens, and there’s Dad, unharmed. He hugs them both, and says, “Gracie, your lizard--”

“What happened to Aurora?” she asks in alarm.

“She saved the day.” He takes them outside where Steve, who’s on his cell, has thrown tarps over the bodies of the would-be killers. He points out the prints in the sand…they look like the tracks Aurora leaves, except that instead of being an inch long, these are a foot long.

Grace stares at them in confusion. Steve hangs up and joins them. “I just got off the phone with Jerry,” he tells them. “He says it sounds like a mo’o.”

“I’ve read about them.” Grace ponders the idea that her pet is a mythological shape-shifting lizard. “They’re fierce guardians of water sources. I guess that means the koi pond--and us.”

“It was pretty impressive,” Danno says. “All of a sudden, poof! She was the size of a bus.”

“Not quite,” Steve contradicts him, “but big enough.”

Grace hurries down to the pond where Aurora suns herself on a rock, looking no different from any other day. “You heard me call, didn’t you? That was very brave of you. Thank you!” Fastidiously, the lizard’s silver tongue laves between her toes. “I hope you’re okay,” Grace says awkwardly. 

Aurora considers, scoots closer and head-butts Grace’s ankle, a familiar gesture of affection. Then she resumes sunning herself, inscrutible as ever. 

…


	4. Yolo, Xolo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Danny are on protection detail for a pet that’s worth millions

“That’s the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen,” Steve mutters.

“Pretty sure that isn’t a dog,” Danny mutters back. “I think it’s some kind of warthog.”

They’re supposed to be protecting a rare-breed stud dog who’s on his way to Australia to say g’day to some bitches Down Under. Here they are and here _it_ is. It has four legs and a tail, but otherwise? It’s almost bald with a pointy face and batlike ears. 

The thing is going walkies with its handler. Its crate is emblazoned **CAUTION: Show Dog** , and a word that makes them both squint. 

“Looks like a bowl of alphabet soup went bad.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Danny finally says to the handler. “What the heck is it? A Yolo? You’re kidding, right?”

“It’s pronounced ‘show-low’, short for show-low-its quent-lee.” She points to the long word on the crate: Xoloitzcuintle . “This is Xerxes of Xanadu. He’s insured for two million dollars. What’s in your wallet?”

…


	5. Tied in Knots

“Remind me to kill this son of a bitch if we ever catch him,” Danny grumbles into his radio. “I’m over this.” The Task Force is trying to capture a killer who’s been targeting uniformed personnel in and around the International Marketplace, which means they’re all undercover in one type of uniform or other. 

Of course, Steve is dashing in his Naval regalia. Kono looks like an exceptionally perky flight attendant. Chin Ho has on dusty khaki fatigues. Grover…well, okay, Danny allows. He may have gotten stuck ‘playing’ an HPD patrolman, but that’s still better than impersonating a Boy Scout Troop Leader on his way to a meeting.

Grover apparently had the uniform in the back of his closet for a while--he must have lost weight since he wore it last, because it makes him look like a melted tan marshmallow. How long ago had Will been the right age to be a scout? Danny has no clue.

Whoever decided navy blue twill uniforms were a good idea in the tropics in August should be shot. Another couple hours of this and he’s liable to stand in the middle of the marketplace and _beg_ the guy to walk up and shoot him, just to put him out of his misery. Of course, with his luck, that’s when the unsub would go for a head-shot from twenty yards out instead of walking up to him and popping him at point-blank range like he did to the first four victims. 

“Excuse me, Ossifer.” It’s Steve, holding a Honolulu map upside-down and swaying slightly. In a lower tone, he holds the map in front of them and says in a lower tone, “Act like you’re giving me directions to the Pearl Harbor memorial.”

So Danny obligingly points in the correct direction, then freezes as Steve’s hand--the one not on the map, obviously--drapes itself on his hip. “What are you doing?” he asks under his breath.

“It’s a show of solidarity,” Steve replies solemnly. “You sounded like you were feeling blue, so I thought I would feel blue, too….”

“Get a room, you two!” Kono chuckles on their frequency. Danny blushes.

“Have you heard the one--” Chin Ho is saying, when there’s an unholy BANG over the com.

“No you don’t, you bastard!” Grover bellows. “You think you can wantonly assault a member of the Boy Scouts of America? No! You! Can’t!”

They follow the sound of his stentorian bellows to the spot where a man in what later proves to be a maintancence uniform is face-down on the pavement, hands already cuffed, gun laying where it fell. “Look at that!” Grover says indignantly when they converge on him. “Man put a hole in my uniform….”

The size of the hole in the uniform is horrifying--nobody except the would-be killer wants to think about how big the hole in Grover would’ve been if he hadn’t been wearing a vest under it.

They drag the guy back to HQ. “Good collar,” Steve compliments Grover once they’ve all gotten back into normal clothes. “The perp must’ve figured you were the least likely person to be wearing a vest. Who’s going to suspect a scout leader?”

“Yeah,” snarks Danny, “but I’m kind of disappointed you just handcuffed him. I mean, aren’t you supposed to have a merit badge in knot-tying and all that?”

Grover eyes him, then drawls, “Knots? That would be applicable under fly-fishing or sailing. There is no badge just for knot-tying. Oh, but _you_ might want to look into Orienteering.”

“What the frack is that?” Danny demands.

“How to read a map.”

…


End file.
